


Playing the Same Game

by Wicked42



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: And somehow they're perfect for each other, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, In which Harrison is a Sad Panda, and Nerris is Nerris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 02:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15809637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked42/pseuds/Wicked42
Summary: Harrison is having a rough night, and Nerris intervenes.





	Playing the Same Game

_You suck, Harrison_!

In the silence of night, the tears fell hard and fast. They pattered to the wooden dock, muted by the gentle push-pull of waves against the rocky shore. The wind was crisp, but not enough to warrant the trembling of his shoulders, the way he hunched into himself.

_Fuck you, Harrison._

The young boy clenched his eyes shut, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. It hurt, mildly, but it was nothing he didn’t deserve. The fire inside him flared against his emotion, and he choked the magic down, tamping it inside the tiny box in his mind, the box where he so desperately tried to shove everything wrong with him.

That box was close to bursting, now.

Being able to practice his abilities every day without worry, well… that had _helped_. But—it wasn’t enough. Even at Camp Campbell, he wasn’t getting any instruction on how to control, to direct, the magic. How could he, when no one was as freaking _messed up_ as he was?

_Aaaah!_

_Oh… still doing that, huh?_

“Oh, god,” Harrison whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair. The tears had dried, and against his scalp, his fingers were warm. Unnaturally warm. Not good. If he went back to Camp like this, he could really kill someone. And he might not be strong enough to prevent it.

He was never strong enough to prevent the things that mattered.

Self-loathing coiled in his stomach, feeding the magic that permeated his very being. Morphing him into something uglier, something dangerous, something—

“Ugh, Harrison?” a familiar voice lisped, oozing distaste. “What are _you_ doing here?”

The words might as well have been a dagger in his heart. Or a plastic sword through his spine. Harrison flinched, hunching even further over his legs, over the dock. He didn’t want to have an evening swim, but if Nerris came any closer, it might come to that.

He couldn’t hurt her. Even if she hated him.

“G-Go away,” he said, desperately.

She scoffed. “Ex _cuse_ me? I’m the one with a midnight quest. If I don’t summon Syringa, the holy nymph of Lake Lilac, how can she bequeath me with—”

“Nerris!” Harrison’s whole body trembled, and he gripped the edge of the dock. But it was too late. Fire licked his fingernails, hissing against the sodden wood. Steam curled around him.

Oh, god, he was a fucking _monster_.

He tried to edge his words with steel, but his humiliation, his anxiety, broke halfway through the sentence. “Leave me alone— _p-please_.”

“What’s going on?” Fear tinged her voice now.

Fear of _him_.

The dark, evil things edged out of that box in his mind, fueling the fire in his heart. He could feel it raging, swelling beyond its usual flicker. It was going to consume him, just like _that night_ , if he didn’t tap its power, redirect it somewhere else. But—Nerris was still here, still staring like he’d crawled from the depths of hell.

Maybe he had.

The magic was out of control. His eyes settled desperately on the lake. Nerris took a step closer, and with a strangled gasp, he tipped himself forward.

And fell.

Fire curled around his arms, swallowing him in bright, burning light, until he crashed into the cold, dark water. His world muted, and as he sunk deeper and deeper, as the rocks of the lake bed dug into his back, Harrison considered just… not coming up.

It was a startling moment of clarity. Maybe _this_ was why Patrick left. Maybe he was becoming a danger, the way Harrison was dangerous, and to protect the family, he vanished. He hadn’t known Harrison had the same abilities. The same magic.

Maybe if Patrick had stayed, he could have taught Harrison something. Maybe they’d both be in control now, back to one big happy family.

Maybe then, Harrison’s parents wouldn’t hate him so much.

Or _fear_ him so much.

He didn’t know which was worse.

The fire was gone, extinguished in the gentle waves. The water chilled him, freezing the magic until ice stiffened his skin, crystalized on his eyelashes. More useless abilities. More _dangerous_ abilities. Could he freeze the whole lake? Was that within a magician’s repertoire?

Panic consumed him. What if that was true? God, he could just imagine David and Gwen strolling down here, finding Nerris, slightly singed, and him buried under sheets of ice. Harrison’s lungs ached, his eyes flying open to settle on the moon, rippling through the murky water.

He didn’t actually want to die here.

Fiercely, he kicked, clawing his way to the surface. He broke it in moments; the lake wasn’t _that_ deep, despite the anxiety weighing him down.

Cool air filled his lungs, calming his thrashing heart. Tears streamed down his face, melting the ice on his lashes, and he shuddered violently as he tread water.

And there was Nerris, still standing on the dock, jaw unhinged.

An irrational anger swept over him. He'd  _ignited_ , just feet from her, and she was still just  _standing there_.

“Nerris, I told you to leave me alone,” he said, but his voice sounded sad and weak, even to him. His limbs were tired, his body aching and exhausted, like the magic had drained every ounce of his willpower. But he couldn’t return to shore. Not while she was so close.

But apparently, their rivalry had vanished the second he tipped himself into the lake. Instead of commenting on his “poor dexterity” or his “inefficient spellcasting,” she tugged a thin rope secured to the side of her questing outfit.

“H-Hang on, I’ll pull you in!”

Pull him in? Harrison sunk even lower into the water. “I’m not coming back. Not until you leave. It’s—not safe.”

“Of course it is. My shields are unparalleled.”

“This is serious, Nerris! I could actually… kill you,” Harrison whimpered the last two words.

She was silent for a long moment. Then that familiar determination settled on her features, and she coiled the rope in her hands.

And threw it.

The lead splattered inches away, and he flinched as water specked his face.

“Grab it,” Nerris called, dancing around the dock. She dug her feet into the rocky beach instead, gripping the rope between both fists as if it were the sword that hung from her opposite hip. Her pointy mage’s hat was askew, and she straightened it before bracing herself. “Harrison, come on!”

His magic was quiet, a cold ball of iron in his stomach. His limbs were edging on jelly. If he stayed out here much longer, he really would drown. His eyes flicked to Spooky Island, but it was too far to swim, and… well, he didn’t _actually_ want to be cold and wet and alone way out there.

With no other choice, he grabbed the rope.

Nerris heaved, and he kicked, and she tugged him back to shore. He broached the water, coughing, dripping as he sprawled onto the rocks. For a long moment, with the lake water lapping his heels, he laid still, hoping that if he didn’t say anything, Nerris might get bored enough to leave.

Instead, she draped her cloak over him. It was heavy and clearly homemade; he could see the uneven stitching near his nose. But it smothered him in her warmth, her smell, and the cold, angry magic in his gut warmed a bit.

Wait. Warmed?

Harrison closed his eyes, prodding his magic. But it wasn’t flaring out of control, overwrought with emotion. It wasn’t icy, tugged inward by dangerous thoughts. It was just… pleasant. Warm as a hot cup of cocoa, soft as a butterfly’s wings.

What changed?

Nerris poked his shoulder. “Hey. Are you dead?” But there was an underlying tone of concern in her voice.

 _Concern_. That was it! Harrison picked himself off the shore, propping on his elbows under the weight of the cloak. The rocks dug into his forearms, but he stared at Nerris as if seeing her for the first time.

And sure enough, her dark brows were knitted together, her lips downturned.

She could have left. He gave her plenty of chances. She _had_ to have seen the flames before he fell into the lake. But—she was still here. And more than that; she cared enough to pull him back to shore, to offer her cloak, even though that left her sleeveless in the brisk evening air. It wasn’t a lot, but… not many people offered Harrison kindness these days.

Tolerance was usually the best he could hope for. 

“I thought you hated me,” he mumbled, pushing himself into a sitting position. He half-expected her to demand her cloak back, since he clearly wasn’t dead, but she just dropped to the shore beside him, unclipping the plastic sword from her belt.

“Well, your face is weird,” she said. He flinched, but she smirked a little, her braces glinting in the moonlight. “But weird isn’t always bad.”

His eyes flicked to her elf ears, her pointy hat, her sword, lying between them. He could argue _she_ was the weird one. At least there was a place in Las Vegas for magicians. The best she’d ever do was Comic-Con.

But the argument had left him the second he plunged into the lake. Now, he stared at his knees, water dripping into his eyes as he said, “But you’re always so annoyed with me.”

Nerris pushed the glasses further up her nose. “Not with _you_. With _them_.” She jerked a thumb back towards Camp Campbell, sounding thoroughly exasperated. “They lump us together like we’re in the same party, doing the same quest. But we’re not even playing the same game.”

The warmth in Harrison’s chest flickered brighter, and he smiled for the first time all night. She didn’t hate him. And what’s more, she was just as frustrated with Camp, with David and Gwen and Cameron Campbell, as he was.

Passion surged into his voice. “I know! Illusionists are obviously different than dungeon masters.”

“Doesn’t take level 20 intelligence to figure out.” Nerris rolled her eyes. After a pause, she glanced sideways at Harrison and said, “That fire trick was cool. Plus 2 modifier.”

“Um, thanks?” He rubbed his arms, skin pockmarked from the gravel and still icier than they should be. But Nerris’ cloak was actually warming him up. Or maybe that was the weird, happy butterfly cocoa mug in his stomach. “I thought it would scare you.”

“You can’t scare me,” she snorted. “I have over 195,000 experience points. In a few more years, I’ll be able to tackle anything in the world.”

Her attitude was staggering. Harrison laughed. “I wish I was as confident as you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve got an awful lot of arrogance... for a street magician,” she said, but a sly smirk tilted her lips.

This time, he didn’t flinch. This time, he matched her tone, grinning. “At least I’ll make money with _my_ talents some day. You’ll regret saying that when my face is all over Vegas.”

God, he hoped that was true. Hoped that one day, he’d be on stage, performing his tricks for a delighted audience instead of a horrified set of parents or a brightly oblivious camp counselor. Hoped that one day, people would praise him for the talent that he’d tried so hard to stifle before this summer.

Nerris scoffed. “Please,” but with her braces, it sounded more like _pleash_ , “you may get Vegas, but I’ll be the best archmage in the Forgotten Realms before you ever hit Nevada.”

“Want to bet?”

She thrust her hand at him. “A gentleman’s agreement.”

Harrison laughed as he shook her hand. In the moonlight, she was somewhat dazzling, lips set in a determined smirk, eyebrows raised behind those massive glasses. He’d never noticed before, but her freckles were… kind of cute.

The ice was nearly all gone now, thawed by the warmth of this conversation… of this new, old friendship. The dark little box in the back of his mind was closed and locked, and all of his insecurities suddenly seemed inconsequential.

All this time, Harrison thought everyone hated him.

But it turned out, the Magic Kids of Camp Campbell had more in common than they thought.  

**Author's Note:**

> WOW I am never writing Nerrison again, for the sole reason of Nerris. Because jesus CHRIST, learning how to write a D&D centric character was fucking nuts. I know more about attributes and the Forgotten Worlds than I ever cared to. 
> 
> (Especially for an MMO gal. Come on, Nerris. Go play WoW like normal girls.) 
> 
> (... totally kidding I know plenty of women who play D&D, and truthfully I'm just bummed my friends won't bring me into their campaigns because of my work schedule. XD I'm like Patrice, on the outside looking in. In the rain. Crying.)
> 
> BUT although this wasn't fun to write, Nerrison is actually one of my favorite ships here. :D My sister and I had an hour-long discussion about their characters, and how they really feel about everything. We settled on them both considering themselves powerful, but in their respective fields, that means something VERY different. Hence their frustration when people compare them. 
> 
> Plus, I think Harrison's home life is SO FUCKING SAD. Like, omg, his parents are AFRAID of him? I'd argue that's worse than Max's neglect... O.o I have this head-canon that in high school, Harrison runs away from home, and Nerris invites him to stay with her family. And then Harrison reveals he has REAL magic, and Nerris' dad gets all starry-eyed, and her mom sympathizes with this poor kid alone on the streets, and suddenly Harrison has a family that both loves and respects him. And it's everything the poor panda needs. 
> 
> Someone go write that, please. I'm going back to my Gwenvid stuff. XD
> 
>  
> 
> [Also, I'm on Tumblr too! :D ](https://wicked-42.tumblr.com/)


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